


Awkward

by jpo2107



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, aka the Drake bros have amazing communication skills as usual, and awkward, really weird, things are getting weird for Nathan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 15:49:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8898004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jpo2107/pseuds/jpo2107
Summary: Nathan and Sam could tell each other anything. Well...at least, they used to. (Fic is set just before the trio heads to the Panamanian prison in Uncharted 4)





	

**Author's Note:**

> my never-ending thanks to @thirtysixsavefiles for going over this with her keen editor's eye. This fic probably would never been finished if not for her patience/support/edits/suggestions while I was over-dramatic every time I got stuck on a plot point. <3 <3 <3 <3

Nathan knocks on Sam’s bedroom door twice in quick succession, notebook filled with hastily scribbled notes clutched in one hand and sketches in the other. He’s practically vibrating with excitement; he can’t wait to tell his brother about the information he dug up at the library this morning - clues that will put them back on track to discovering Avery’s treasure.

“Sam? You there?” Nathan calls out, tapping on the door again with his knuckles. “Sam, you better not be sleeping still, it’s almost noon and----”he trails off as the door slowly opens. The smile slowly falters from his face.

“Rafe?” Nate says, confused. “Did I---sorry, I must have mixed up the bedrooms.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Can you point me in the direction of Sam’s room?”

Rafe stares at Nathan with an unimpressed air. “This  _ is  _ his room.”

Nathan’s forehead furrows. He doesn’t say anything for a few moments, as the gears in his head start to turn.

_ Rafe is in Sam’s room.  _

_ Rafe isn’t wearing a shirt. Which, okay...kind of weird, but it’s summer and it’s really humid, even with the AC blasting in the apartment. Wow, Rafe is weirdly buff, why haven’t I noticed that before---focus, Nate. _

Nathan’s eyes narrow as he notices dark bruises marking Rafe’s neck and collarbone. There are more marks going down his chest but Nathan’s brain slams on the brakes and he keeps his eyes level with Rafe’s.

Faintly, Nathan can hear the sounds of the shower running in the adjoining bathroom and he just stands there dumbly as Rafe looks at him like Nathan is the most dense person he’s ever come across in his life. 

“I’ll let Sam know you stopped by.” Rafe says in a bored voice before closing the door in Nathan’s face.

“What an asshole,” Nathan mutters under his breath as he stands there for a few beats before turning back to his room. He’ll just...he’ll just go over his notes and talk with Sam later.

~

Nathan doesn’t know how to approach his brother about this. Nathan doesn’t know if he  _ should _ approach his brother about this. To be honest, he thought his brother would be coming to  _ him _ about this whole mess. Nathan had been sure that Rafe would have mentioned something to Sam and that Sam would find Nathan hiding in his own bedroom and they’d have an incredibly awkward conversation about how Sam and Rafe have been sleeping together for _ god knows how long _ , and how Nathan has the perception of a  _ gnat _ because he didn’t pick up on it. 

But Sam doesn’t seek out Nathan. Which, okay, that’s fine. Kind of hurts a bit, but Nathan gets it. Sort of. 

Nathan finally brings himself out of his room, mostly because his stomach is yelling at him to  _ feed it already _ , and he makes his way to the insanely large kitchen in Rafe’s apartment, following his nose towards the delicious smell of bacon.

His brother is at the stove, tending to the bacon and putting toast in the toaster, moving around the kitchen like he knows where everything is, and Nathan just doesn’t know how to deal with this. He leans in the doorframe and stares at the back of Sam’s head for a couple minutes, trying to assess the situation and figure out how to talk to his brother rationally. About his relationship with Rafe. The relationship that he didn’t feel the need to tell Nathan about. And Nathan doesn’t even know if it  _ is _ a relationship - maybe Sam’s blowing off steam or something. Who knows with his brother.

_ This’ll go super smooth _ , Nathan thinks to himself sullenly. He shifts against the doorframe and Sam turns towards him at the sound.

“Hey little brother.” He nods his head towards the pan of bacon. “You hungry?”

“Sure.” Nathan moves to sit at one of the stools at the island in the middle of the kitchen. “Bit late for breakfast though, don’t you think?”

Sam snorts. “It is  _ never  _ too late for bacon, Nathan. Have I taught you nothing?” 

Nathan chuckles and -raps his knuckles on the smooth countertop. “Well, the service in this place is terrible.”

Sam throws an annoyed look over his shoulder as he expertly flips over the bacon. “Keep that up, buddy, and I’m not giving you shit.”

Nathan keeps the commentary to himself, watching his brother move around the kitchen, adding a couple fried eggs to the mix, before placing a fried egg and bacon sandwich in front of Nathan. His stomach grumbles almost loud enough to almost be embarrassing, but honestly he’s too hungry to care.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Sam teases, leaning against the counter with his own sandwich. “No smart remarks now, huh?”

They eat in what Sam probably thinks of as comfortable silence; he appears to be  basking in the warm afternoon sun streaming through the kitchen window while he eats, completely at ease with himself and his surroundings. Meanwhile, Nathan’s brain is running into overdrive, trying to think of the best way to bring up the  _ extremely awkward  _ incident with Rafe. 

_ ‘“There’s no good way to say  _ ‘So you’re banging Rafe,’ _ is there?”,  _ Nathan thinks - as he swallows the last bit of sandwich. He’s still trying to come up with a way to bring it up when Sam starts cleaning up the mess he’s made in the kitchen.

“So,” Sam says over his shoulder as he runs hot water over one of the frying pans. “Rafe said you found something at the library?” 

Nathan brightens a bit, thinking his brother is finally going to address what happened. He leans forward on his elbows, waiting for Sam to continue. A couple beats of silence pass before Sam looks back over at Nathan.

“Are you...are you going to tell me what you found?” Sam asks with a laugh.

Nathan blinks in surprise. He pauses, waiting for Sam to laugh and say he’s just stringing Nathan along - but Sam doesn’t, just wipes down the pan and sets in on the rack to dry. Nate reluctantly reaches into his back pocket for his notebook and sets it on the table next to his plate. He thumbs through the pages, glancing up at Sam, who by all appearances is still waiting patiently.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Sam asks.

“I’m not---I’m looking in my notebook.” Nathan pauses before deciding to press forward. “Is that all Rafe said?”

“About what?”

“About this morning. Did he...mention anything else?”

Sam shoots Nathan a puzzled look. “Uh, no. He just said you were looking for me earlier. Should he have told me something else?”

“I don’t know,  _ maybe _ ?”

“Nathan, what’s going on?” Sam asks, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “You’re acting strange.”

Nathan looks at Sam, his forehead creased with concern, and even though it’s on the tip of Nathan’s tongue to ask why was Rafe was in Sam’s room, shirtless and  _ with hickies, no less _ ,he can’t quite get the words out from the back of his throat.

"It's nothing," Nathan says, and the look that Sam gives him clearly shows that he doesn't believe Nathan but he lets it pass. Nathan's gut twists again - once upon a time they would have told each other everything, but it looks like that time has passed. If possible, he’s even more upset at the fact that if Sam can’t tell him this, then why can’t Nathan bring it up? He’s never had problems talking to Sam about  _ anything _ . 

At least, not until now. Nathan’s not sure what’s changed, exactly. He knows it has to do with  _ Rafe _ , obviously, but he doesn’t know why that means Sam can’t just come clean about it.

Nathan sighs in defeat and opens his notebook up to the page with his latest find. Sam comes over to where Nathan is sitting, reading over his shoulder, grin slowly getting bigger as he takes it in. 

"Jonathan Burnes, huh?" Sam claps Nate on the shoulder before moving away to finish cleaning up, and Nate smiles despite himself. "Good work, little brother."

“Thanks. What about you two?” Nathan asks, resigned to not actually getting an honest answer out of his brother - at least not now. “Any luck on your end?”

Sam shakes his head as he puts the last few dishes away in the cabinets “Nah, nothing yet.” He lightly taps Nathan’s shoulder with his knuckles as he passes on his way out,"But we're getting close, I can feel it."

Nathan sits by himself for a little longer after Sam’s left, finger idly tracing invisible lines over the pages of his notebook. 

~

Maybe Nathan’s reading too much into things. Maybe he just made a silly assumption and there’s nothing Sam’s hiding from him  _ because there’s nothing to hide _ .

He’s feeling pretty sure of this assessment so far. Sam and Rafe aren’t acting any different around each other. If anything, the two of them argue even more over every scrap of information Nathan digs up, never able to come to agreement on anything.

Nathan can’t see how his brother would get entangled with someone he can barely hold a civil conversation with. It just doesn’t make sense.

_I mean_ , Nathan muses as he pulls a t-shirt over his head, _those could have been completely innocent bruises on Rafe’s neck. Didn’t have to automatically mean hickies._ _Maybe they're from... racquetball? That's a rich guy sport, Rafe probably plays it. That's totally what they were._

Dressed and ready to do some exploring in the city before voluntarily spending god knows how long in a Panamanian jail, Nathan bounds down the hallway, turning the corner and almost crashing head first into Rafe who is just coming in, Sam trailing behind him. 

Nathan stops dead in his tracks, eyes widening. Both Rafe and Sam are unkempt and sweaty, and Nathan thinks he catches a look pass between the two of them -but he's not 100% sure. Maybe his mind is playing tricks on him. 

“Hey, Nathan,” Sam says, wiping his forehead with front of his t-shirt. “You heading out?”

“Yeah, was planning on it.” Nathan's eyes narrow slightly. “Where were you two?”

“Oh, uh.” Sam flicks his gaze back towards Rafe. “Went for a run.”

“You went for a run?” Nate repeats in disbelief. He looks at Rafe for confirmation. Rafe is wearing a loose grey tank top and shorts, so it’s possible that  _ he _ went for a run. But  _ Sam _ ?

Rafe shrugs, clearly disinterested. “Sure.”

“What, did you go running with that cigarette in your mouth?” Nathan asked, pointing.

Sam quickly snatches the unlit cigarette from his mouth and puts it behind his ear. “You’ve never heard of a post-run smoke, Nathan?”

“As interesting as this is,” Rafe interjects, gesturing between Nathan and Sam, “and believe me, it’s not - I'm afraid I'm going to have to take a rain check on the rest.” He pushes between the brothers and vanishes around the corner, the entire back of his tank top soaked in sweat. 

Maybe he did go for a run after all, Nathan thinks to himself. Why else would he be so sweaty?

He turns back towards his brother, catching a weird, conflicted expression on Sam's face as he watches Rafe disappear. It finally dawns on Nathan that there could very well be a good reason why the two of them are so sweaty that has  _ nothing _ to do with running and suddenly Nathan wants to bleach his brain.

Nathan has to clear his throat audibly before he has Sam's attention again. Sam twitches slightly at the noise and his eyes don't quite meet Nathan's. 

“I should probably get cleaned up too,” Sam says, shoulder brushing Nathan’s as he slides past. 

“Sam,  _ come on _ .” Nathan says, exasperated.

“We'll talk later, promise!” Sam says over his shoulder before also disappearing around the corner, and Nathan is left alone and frustrated in the front hall.

He's pretty sure the sound of the apartment door slamming behind him can be heard by the entire building, but Nathan doesn't care. He's so done with this. 

~

Sam and Nathan don’t end up talking when Nathan gets back from his long, winding walk through the city. He returns to the apartment after several hours away and goes straight up to his room, locking his door behind him. He flops onto the the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Sighing, he rubs the bridge of his nose with his finger, wishing that the headache that crept up on him earlier would just go away. 

At first, Nathan thought this was about Rafe - not that he's a guy, but that it's  _ Rafe _ , who is, if Nathan's honest, kind of an asshole. It’s also not about Sam's apparently poor taste in partners, or even about the fact that Rafe is funding this expedition - it's about the fact that Sam apparently doesn't want him to  _ know _ . Nathan isn't sure which possibility hurts more: that Sam didn't want him to know, or that it just didn't occur to him to tell Nathan.

Up to this point, their entire lives have been always been _ them _ , never trusting anyone the way they trusted each other. Other people flitted in and out of their lives periodically but never in any permanent way, and never in any way that knocks the balance off in the way that it feels right now, like the wind has been kicked out of Nathan’s lungs. It stings, a bit, to think that Sam’s holding things back from him; that the open and honest relationship that they carved out for each other, after years of having no one else to count on, is no longer relevant.

Nathan lays on his bed and wishes this wasn’t happening.

~

_ This isn’t happening _ , Nathan thinks to himself in a panic.

If there was a definition of stuck between a rock and a hard place, Nathan’s current predicament would be illustrated smack dab below it. 

He really wishes he hadn’t come into the kitchen for a snack. Why couldn’t he have just eaten his forearm instead? That would be less painful that the situation he’s in right now.

The pantry doors are almost paper thin, slants of light peeking in through the slats. He can barely make out Rafe and Sam through the door - thank god for small blessings - but the doors definitely don’t block out any noise. 

Nathan can hear everything. He just wanted something to eat, he didn’t want this. Anything but this.

“We gotta be quick,” Sam’s muffled voice interrupts Nathan’s panic attack. “Nathan will be back any minute.”

Rafe’s reply is slightly breathless. “You know, if you wanna keep fucking me, you should probably stop talking about your brother.”

Nathan feels slightly affronted by this, but not more so than his mounting horror at what’s happening on the kitchen table - the same table he was eating at that very morning - and he closes his eyes tightly, willing time to speed up so he doesn’t have to listen to this for a second longer than he has to.

He must have been an awful person in a past life because it seems like time slows down to a crawl. It’s been a long time since Nathan stuffed his fingers in his ears like a toddler but the need to block out the  _ sounds  _ coming out of Rafe’s mouth and the slap of skin against skin is almost overpowering and he digs his fingers in deeper.

It finally ends what feels like several excruciating hours later, and after removing his fingers from his ears, Nathan can faintly hear Rafe telling Sam he’s going upstairs to shower. Nathan breathes a sigh of relief that it’s over and he can finally leave this horror show of a pantry (he’ll never be able to go into another pantry again, that much is certain). He should probably wait until Sam leaves, though, and he  _ is _ still hungry even through the trauma, so he picks up the snack he came here for in the first place.

But because the universe has a terrible sense of humour, the pantry doors swing open, and Nathan is staring straight into the shocked face of his brother.

There’s nothing else to do. “Pop-tart?” Nathan offers, holding out the opened box.

Sam stares at Nathan in stunned horror. Nathan’s pretty sure his own expression is mirrored in Sam’s. 

“This is _ not  _ how I wanted you to find out.” Sam says, breaking the silence.

“Funny, me neither!” Nathan replies, shoving the box of pop-tarts at his brother. “Definitely not on my list of Top Ten Ways To Find Out Your Brother Is Fucking Your Financial Backer.” 

“Title needs a little work,” Sam says, smiling a little. He’s trying to  defuse the situation, but Nathan won’t let him get away with it. Not this time. Sam sets the pop-tarts on the counter, taking his time, completely avoiding eye contact with Nathan, as if he thinks that if he pretends that nothing is wrong, the problem will just disappear. 

“Rafe?” Nathan says in disbelief. “You’re fucking around with _ Rafe _ ? Why?”

Sam still doesn’t look at Nathan, fumbling with the cigarette in his hand before opening his mouth to answer, but Nathan cuts him off.

“Rhetorical question, dickhead. I don’t actually want to know the details.  _ Jesus _ . I _ heard _ enough for a lifetime.”

“Listen, Nate--” Sam sighs before lighting his cigarette. “ It’s complicated, alright?”

“Complicated?” Nathan repeats dismissively. “That’s rich. Oh no, wait--sorry. That’s  _ Rafe _ .”

“Hey.” Sam’s voice turns sharper and he frowns at Nathan as he exhales smoke. “ Don’t be a dick.”

“I can’t believe you kept this from me.” Nathan says, pushing past Sam, getting away from the confined space of the pantry.

“I didn’t think you’d wanna know!”

“I didn’t!”

“Then why are we arguing about this?” Sam asks, exasperated. 

“Because instead of telling me like a normal person would,” Nathan points out, his back still turned,  knuckles turning white as he grips the edge of the countertop, “I get to have front seats to the entire show! I hope Rafe has some room in the budget to hire a therapist because I’m thinking that might be a benefit.” He turns his head towards his brother, his anger and frustration over the past few days finally breaking loose.

Sam’s shoulders slump downwards in defeat, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. He rubs his eyes with his free hand. The silence between them is almost unbearable, but Nathan can’t let this go. Not this time.

“Look, I’m--”, Sam finally says quietly, pausing to take a drag from his cigarette. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t know how you’d react. I--”

“What?” Nathan cuts him off sharply. “You thought I’d  _ disapprove _ or something?” Nathan’s stomach feels like a heavy piece of lead, slowly sinking to the bottom. Rafe aside, he can’t believe that Sam would keep this part of him hidden from Nathan. He loves his brother, would do anything for him, accept him without question. How can Sam  _ not know that _ , after all this time?

“What?” Sam makes a surprised face. “No! That’s not it at all.”

_ “Then what is it _ ?” Nathan grinds out between gritted teeth, a headache forming behind his eyes. God, all he wanted was a snack. “I hate this kitchen, nothing good happens here.”

Sam takes another long drag on the end of his cigarette, grinding it onto the ashtray on the counter before immediately reaching for another in his back pocket. There’s a long stretch of silence before he finally answers, his voice quiet and strained.

“I didn’t want things to, you know,” Sam gestures with the unlit cigarette between himself and Nathan, “get messed up. The whole Avery thing, getting into this Panama jail, I didn’t want---”, He sighs, not finishing his sentence, lighting up his cigarette. “Never mind, it was stupid, okay? I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah, you know, that  _ was _ stupid. Of course things change." Sam flinches a bit at Nathan’s tone but Nathan steps in close and says, his jaw clenched a little to stop his voice from shaking, "But _ we _ don't. I'm still here, Sam, any day, any time. I'm not going  _ anywhere _ ."

Sam looks at Nathan, his face unreadable.  He looks down again, fiddling with his cigarette, and moves to stub in out. It’s only half-finished, and that’s a dead giveaway that Sam is two seconds away from freaking out and blowing off this conversation entirely, and this is too important for Nathan to let that happen.  _ Sam _ is too important.

So Nathan reaches out and stops him, hand over Sam’s with the still-burning cigarette between them. Sam looks up, meeting Nathan’s eyes for the first time, and Nathan may not approve of Sam’s smoking habit but he does approve of  _ Sam _ , unreservedly and unconditionally and some of that must come across because Sam relaxes a bit. The tension between them seems to have lessened, but it hasn’t disappeared completely. They may be here again, Nathan knows, but now that he knows what’s  _ up _ he’ll be ready to reassure Sam as many times as it takes.

Nathan’s not going anywhere, and he won’t let Sam go anywhere either.

Nathan leans against the counter, grinning as Sam relaxes and the heavy tension dissipates. “So...are you two like, dating?” Nathan teases. Sam’s catching  _ so _ much shit for this.

Sam looks at Nathan like he’s internally struggling with the pros and cons of fratricide. 

“Tell me how you two crazy kids met,” Nathan continues, as if his brother isn’t three seconds away from throttling him.

“You were _ there, _ Nathan.” Sam replies, annoyed.

“So it was like, love at first sight? That’s  _ so sweet _ , I thought that only happened in the movies.”

“Stop.” 

“Do you call each other by cute nicknames? Because if you do, I’d like to request that you keep it to a minimum while I’m around. I don’t know how much  _ sweetie-bear _ or  _ cutie-pie _ I can take in one sitting." 

“ _ Nathan _ \---”

“Oh good, you’ve sorted yourselves out, what a  _ relief _ .” Rafe’s voice jolts both brothers out of their conversation, both turning their heads towards Rafe as he makes his way to the fridge. “All this sneaking around was getting really tiresome, gotta say.”

“You know,” Nathan points out, “this all could have been avoided if you had just told Sam I ran into you in his bedroom!” 

“Yeah, well---” Rafe shrugs as he opens the fridge door. “Wouldn’t have been nearly as entertaining watching your mental gymnastics trying to talk to Samuel about it.”

“Your boyfriend is an asshole,” Nathan says to Sam. 

“ _ What _ ?” Rafe looks at Sam in confusion and Sam sighs, rubbing his hand over his face.

“That’s probably my cue to leave, later fellas!” Nathan all but sprints from the kitchen, snickering to himself as he leaves.

“ _ Boyfriend _ ?”

Another long-suffering sigh from Sam, “Rafe, listen---”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!


End file.
